


Top of the Fifth

by a_question_of_love (roseandheather)



Series: Inning by Inning [4]
Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Anderson Really Loves Sloths, Keith Olbermann Is Bad At Feelings, M/M, Now Anderson Needs Cuddles, Shep Is An Excellent Cuddler, When did sloths become a metaphor for their relationship anyway?, except when he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/a_question_of_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aching and bruised, Anderson comes home and finds his peace in the two men he loves. Keith can't help but resent, just a little, what Shep and Anderson share, a bond that will never include him - but theirs is a story of four bonds, not three, and the fourth matters as much as all the other three put together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top of the Fifth

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this fic distinctly fails to even invite reality over for tea, except when convenient.
> 
> Still not sorry.

Anderson gets back from Haiti at two in the morning.

Keith's never quite known what to say, on days like this. On days when Anderson's just come back from weeks, months in among more suffering and misery than Keith thinks he could ever bear. He doesn't know, because he's never been there. Not really. He can say whatever he wants about "you have to take it _personally_ ", but at the end of the day, he can never look in Anderson's eyes and see his own traitorous, harrowing memories reflected there.

But Shep... Shep can.

Now Shep stirs beside him, looking up, seeing silver hair gleaming in the faint moonlight percolating through the drapes, and he just... opens. Opens his arms, opens his eyes, opens his heart to the wounded, still-bleeding man running a hand over his own tear-stained face, and folds him in, holding.

"Was it bad, baby?" Empathy, raw and real, suffuses the voice of someone who'd seen his own share of suffering, faced his own demons in the Mississippi Delta and too many other places to count when Shep whispers into the gloaming.

"It was the worst," Anderson says simply, his voice ragged. "It was..."

"Baby," Shep says again, and then doesn't speak at all, just holding Anderson, close and tight and warm, as the other man falls apart at last in his arms.

Silently, Keith reaches for the furry body tumbling free of Anderson's duffel.

The plush toy sloth is as long as his hand, from his wrist to the tip of his middle finger. His name is Rebel, a tribute to Ole Miss and the alumnus thereof who gave it to him, and he has gone everywhere - _everywhere_ \- with Anderson since the moment Shep first handed him over, a shy, hopeful grin on his face.

Anderson lets out a little cry and reaches to take the tiny sloth from Keith, fingers curling around it. Silently Shep covers that hand with his own, then brings them both to settle between them, over the ragged, rapid beat of Anderson's heart.

"I love you so much," Anderson whispers at last. " _So much._ "

"I love you too," Shep murmurs, gently kissing the curve of Anderson's neck. "Oh, darlin'. I love you, too."

For a moment - just for a moment - he aches with loss. This is something he will never know, will never share, and for all he has welcomed Shepard Smith into their lives - and their bed - like the gift of Providence he has turned out to be, a tiny, petty part of him wishes that Shep and Anderson didn't have this clear, shining bond with no place for him.

But then, as though he can hear Keith's thoughts, Anderson looks over Shep's shoulder and directly into his eyes. "Keith," he whispers, one hand reaching out, and then Keith is holding them both, and Anderson's free hand is fisting in Keith's shirt and Shep is leaning back against him like he's the only thing holding them up and all at once, everything is all right again. Because, yes, Shep and Anderson have a bond Keith will never share. But so do he and Shep, born of shouting at sports teams Andy doesn't care about and frustration with a world they can't extract sanity from and a passionate, romantic idealism that has never, and will never, be a part of Anderson's nature.

Nor will Shep ever touch what Keith and Anderson share; nights on the phone laughing till they can't speak, frustration with networks that don't always support them, trashy reality TV that Shep has no interest in, and sparring, witty banter born of an Ivy League education that a befuddled Shep just rolls his eyes good-naturedly at.

And this. The three of them together, wrapped around each other, finding all the tiny corners, cracks and crevices where they've begun to fall apart and fitting those broken pieces inside until together, finally, they make something whole.

Something _strong._

This is Shep-and-Anderson, and Anderson-and-Keith, and Keith-and-Shep, yes, it is all of those things - but what matters most is that at the end of the day, they are Shep-and-Keith-and-Anderson.

Unbreakable.

He will never look into Anderson's or Shep's eyes and see his own harrowing memories reflected back at him.

So he will open his arms and hold them up and be their refuge, instead.

And it's everything.

His hand closes around theirs, still joined in the dark around the tiny toy sloth, and he holds on.

And he never, ever, _ever_ lets go.


End file.
